


A Soft Place To Land

by anoneknewmoose, Livelylute, mwestbelle



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: (brief mention of past animal sacrifice), Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Sacrifice, Healing, M/M, Trauma, Trauma Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:22:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28172361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoneknewmoose/pseuds/anoneknewmoose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livelylute/pseuds/Livelylute, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: Plant witch Steve spends his days with his tight-knit coven, gardening and loving on plants of all kinds. Bucky has a gloved hand and dark energy he can't quite hide. This is the low-fi magical realism story of their love.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 32
Kudos: 165
Collections: Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020





	A Soft Place To Land

**Author's Note:**

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> After the incredibly #2020 year all three of us have had, we are THRILLED to bring you our soft witchy boys fic & art collaboration. Thank you to the NASBB mods for all of your hard work in running a fantastic challenge (and your generous understanding about #2020)! Thank you as well to Em for the thoughtful beta and to Hans for the NYC localization work. Remaining errors are our own, blame Magical AU NYC ;) 

The best days, in Steve's opinion, are ones that begin in a garden. He'd made an early start to the day, coming to the coven garden before it got too hot at midday. He's pleasantly dirty, streaks of dirt on his forearms adding a note of verisimilitude to his tattoos of flowers and vines, and the basket next to him fills quickly with the bounty of the vegetable patch. The garden is bustling behind him, the low buzz of the coven weeding, watering, gossiping -- all the noises he's grown up with fading into a comforting background soundtrack. 

"Gonna be a scorcher today, Steve," Agatha says down the way from him, pausing in her weeding and squinting up at the trees and the sky. The leaves rustle and she frowns, nodding at them. "I know it. Sticky today. Storm tonight, tomorrow maybe." 

"Yeah?" Steve rolls the ache out of his shoulders and rocks back on his heels, shifting his knee cushion to the next section. "I'll bring the plants in from the fire escape, then."

"You do that," she replies, and then wags her hand rake at him. "And get on home after you finish those carrots, the string beans want another couple days." 

"Yes, auntie." Steve may be a grown-ass man now, despite what his height might indicate, but to most of the rest of the coven, he'll always be the little blond baby held snug to his mother's chest, staring up at the green leaves and the starry skies with big blue eyes. He picks up his garden fork, loosening the soil around the next batch of carrots before he wraps his hand firmly around the base of the greens to pull them free.

He can feel the soft throb of the Earth, low and steady like his own heartbeat in the back of his head. The carrots he picks form a rainbow in the basket, ranging from the classic orange to hues of red, pale yellow, and even purple. They'll need to be washed and trimmed before going into the coven's stores, but that's not part of his job for today.

Once all the carrots have been plucked, Steve leans over to give Agatha a kiss on the cheek before standing, picking up his basket with a grunt. Squinting up at the sky from under the wide brim of a straw hat, he thinks he can see a hint of grey on the horizon that might very well be a storm on the way.

Hazel is sorting through vegetables at the front gate, and she gives Steve a smile from under her own black brimmed hat when he sets his basket alongside the others. "No string beans today?"

"By order of Agatha," Steve says, and they share a grin. Steve washes his hands and refills his water bottle from the cooler by the washstand and heads out. The garden is set toward the back of the coven's grounds within Prospect Park, where the road noise is filtered away from the food by trees. It makes a nice transition back to the city, walking the familiar paths, listening to the gravel crunch under his sneakers and the birds in the trees change to the sounds of children playing in the front public section of the park, then the cars and buses going down the road and people on the sidewalks. Steve turns north, fitting his earbuds to his ears, letting the music carry him the ten blocks home.

As he steps into his building, Steve feels a weird prickle at the back of his neck. He reaches up and rubs it, but his skin just feels hot from the walk and the sun. He shrugs it off, heading up the four flights of stairs to his apartment on the top floor.

All of the plants perk up when he opens the door, and it's easy to banish the strange sensation from downstairs from his mind. This apartment has been small, bright, and filled with plants for as long as he can remember, though it's become a bit more of a jungle in the years since his mother passed. An ivy dangling in a macrame plant hanger near the door waves a dangling tendril gently in his direction, and Steve can't help but smile as he kicks off his dirty shoes and goes for the mister.

Once everyone's been tended to, Steve settles at his drafting table next to the window. There's a half-finished pencil sketch taped down, and he picks up a pencil with one hand and an eraser with the other, not sure which one he'll need first. The morning out in the sun and the garden has, as always, renewed him with fresh energy for work. As he sketches, faint circles start to take form as ripe, juicy peaches next to unfurling blossoms.

*

Over the next few days, Steve keeps having that _feeling_. He shrugs it off to weather, the storm predicted by Agatha or the heavy humidity that follows. Or maybe Mr. Johnson on the fourth floor is having a bad week, that always leaves a weird vibe... 

But none of those feel quite right. This is Steve's building, the place he was born and raised, and he knows the rhythms of the residents. This feels different, new and a little dark in a way that tenses Steve's neck until it aches. 

One afternoon he finds himself sketching drooping leaves, falling petals, and sets his pencil down with a sigh. He needs to suss out the source of this.

It's not a big building, and Steve knows pretty much everyone who lives here, by sight if not by name. He heads downstairs, and everything feels normal until he hits the second floor and feels an unmistakable shiver go down his spine. There's energy here that he doesn't recognize, and now that he's getting the full force of it, there's a tang in the back of his throat that's almost metallic.

He follows his senses down the hall, to an apartment that's been vacant for the past few months. Clearly not anymore. The vibe gets stronger as he approaches, enough that when he raises his hand to knock, the fine blond hair on his arm is prickling like a porcupine.

Steve knocks, and the strange feeling flares for a moment before disappearing entirely, fast enough that it makes Steve instinctively roll his shoulders to check that the tension is actually gone. He can hear shuffling inside, and the door opens slowly to reveal a man about his age. The left side of his body is hidden by the door, but he's stepped out enough that Steve can see he's taller and broader -- who isn't? -- but not huge. Long, dark hair. Wide, cautious blue eyes.

"Hey," Steve says, plastering on his most neighborly smile. "I don't know if you knew there were other magic users in the building, but you've been, uh, kind of blasting your stereo. Psychically speaking."

"Ah, fuck." The man winces, cupping a hand behind his neck. "Sorry, I didn't realize. I'll work on that."

"Thanks, man," Steve says. He carefully shields and holds out a hand. "Steve Rogers, of the Prospect Park Coven. I'm up in 5A."

His new neighbor hesitates, looking down at the hand, before visibly bracing himself for the handshake. Even with him apparently shielding as well as he can, his aura feels almost like spikes against Steve's, and the clasp doesn't last long. 

"Bucky Barnes," he -- Bucky -- says. He shoves his hands in his pockets. "I'll work on being quieter."

Steve's hand is still tingling from the brush with Bucky's skin but he feels a tug in his chest, an urge to fetch a healing brew even though he's certain none of his standard teas will do much for Bucky. 

"No worries," Steve says, trying to keep a gentle smile on his face. A nervous witch, unaffiliated, in a new building? Steve would be struggling with his masking, too. 

Maybe. Bleeding off excess magic in the garden helps with that.

"Listen, Bucky, I grew up here so let me know if I can help with anything, alright?" Bucky looks up, eyes wide in surprise, and Steve plows on. "And the coven welcomes volunteers for gardening days, if you want." 

"Oh." Bucky frowns a little, a crease forming between his brows. "Thanks, but I'm not really...looking, right now."

"No, totally." Steve holds both hands up, a mock surrender. "No recruiting, I promise. Just some neighborly...vegetable time." He knows he sounds like an idiot, but instead of pushing the door closed, Bucky starts to smile.

"I'll think about it."

"You should. Think about it, I mean." Steve smiles back, instinctively. Bucky has that kind of face. One that makes him want to turn toward it, like a flower tilting its head towards the sun. "Drop by whenever you like. I'll give you the full tour."

"Sure." There's a little twitch at the corner of Bucky's smile, like maybe he's trying not to laugh. "I'd like that."

*

Steve doesn't really expect anything, though he does notice a significant reduction in the amount of dark static in his brain over the next few days. But the next time he heads to the garden, he's wrist-deep in a flowerbed when he senses someone...behind him.

He turns, looking back to see Bucky dressed head to toe in black, complete with a wide-brimmed black hat throwing his entire face into shadow. His gloved left hand is shoved deep in a pocket and he looks awkward and out of place, but he smiles and waves at Steve.

"Bucky! Hi," Steve says, waving him over. He brushes dirt off his hands and stands up, tugging Bucky into a hug as soon as he's close enough, and immediately regrets it when Bucky tenses.

But before he can pull away, Bucky leans into it, and there's a wash of dark energy over Steve's body. It feels like prickly slime and Steve shudders, instinctively shoving it all into the ground through his bare feet. They break apart and Bucky looks flushed, eyes wide, but his shoulders are lower and he somehow seems less out of place now.

"Um. Hi," Bucky says, clearing his throat. "The girl at the gate said you'd be in the full sun beds."

"Yup! Yes, yeah, that's them," Steve says, gesturing at the bed of purple and yellow flowers. "I was just weeding the bee balm and coreopsis."

"Right." Bucky smiles at him, looking almost nervous, and Steve mentally crosses any sort of plant-based magic off his ongoing list of possibilities for which tradition Bucky practices. 

"This doesn't look like any garden I've been in," Bucky adds. "It's more...organic, y'know?" 

Steve nods and looks back across the garden. "It's called companion planting. It's more natural and more sustainable than monoculture. Mixed culture is less prone to disease or blight, and--" He cuts himself off, feeling his cheeks heat as he looks back over at Bucky. "You can just pinch me when I start rambling like that, you know."

Instead, Bucky grins and reaches up to adjust the brim of his hat. "It's okay. I like it. It's something you're passionate about."

Steve exhales with a laugh. "You could say that, yeah. It's pretty much my whole life."

Bucky, Steve notices, looks even more handsome when he's smiling. "Set me to work, then, and tell me more. You promised me a tour, right?" 

Steve nods and beckons for Bucky to follow him back to the flower bed he was working on before. Bucky is clearly unused to gardening and working in the earth, but he's enthusiastic and not shy about getting his hands dirty. They work companionably side by side for the better part of an hour as Steve explains the different varietals in the garden, why certain plants grow well together, which ones are in his tattoos. True to his word, Bucky seems legitimately interested. He lets Steve talk most of the time, but interrupts with enough questions that Steve can tell he's actually listening.

Once the bed is clear, Steve shows Bucky to a rough-hewn bench that a long ago coven member carved for the garden, tucked away behind some drooping branches and vines. He lets Bucky get acquainted with the space and comes back with two mason jars of rosemary lemonade, a pair of sandwiches neatly wrapped in a clean tea towel, and cookies one of the middle aged witches pushed on him with a wink he's trying not to think about.

The bench is one of his favorite spots to sit and draw after he's done working in the garden. It's quiet and tucked away, but sitting on the admittedly small bench next to Bucky, knees almost touching, it feels intimate in a way it never has before. 

"I like the goth look," Steve says, unwrapping his sandwich and offering Bucky a sideways smile. "Very SPF."

He can still feel Bucky's energy on the edge of his awareness, but it's not the noxious darkness it was before. It's more tingly, like strong peppermint, and Bucky smiles back. "Thanks. I wanted to come prepared, but...I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Sun protection is always a smart choice," Steve tells him. "You're already ahead of the game."

Bucky chuckles and takes a bite from his own sandwich. "That's something, at least." They eat quietly for a few minutes. Steve can hear the wind blowing through the leaves, the chatter of other coven members and guests working in the garden.

Then Bucky heaves a great breath and says, "How often do you balance someone's aura like that?"

Steve starts, and it takes him a moment to remember; the warm breezy day has made it easy to shove it to the back of his mind. He doesn't particularly _want_ to think about why Bucky has that sort of toxicity to him, why he's kept his hand gloved all morning, or why that slimy thorny energy felt so alien to Bucky himself. 

But it did happen, and Bucky's watching him now with a nervous cast to his expression, his shoulders hunching in.

"Outside of coven purification rituals?" Steve chews on his lip and takes a nervous breath. "I mean...there's always a bit of balancing, when you get to the garden. But I've never felt it like that."

"That tracks," Bucky says, and he laughs -- a soft, short, bitter little laugh. He picks at fraying threads around a hole in his jeans, and he looks so _sad_ that Steve can't help bumping their knees together. It gets Bucky to look up, anyway, and look less bleak.

"I split from my last coven," Bucky says. "They. It wasn't right for me, anymore. Today's been nice, being around people again."

"Oh." Steve's chest aches. He's heard stories about the type of covens that make people run. He might barely know Bucky, but it's awful to think of that happening to him. "Well, you're absolutely welcome here, anytime. If the park feels more right for you."

"Thanks." Bucky looks down, watching his thumb collect condensation on his jar of lemonade, and looks back up with a little smile. "I don't think this is me, but it's nice to visit."

"Sure," Steve says, and offers him a chocolate chip cookie. "Gardens are good like that. They meet you where you are."

"Yeah? That's good to know." Bucky takes the cookie with a smile. "I've been studying crystals, ever since. They just amplify what's inside of you. It's. It feels safer." 

"That makes sense," Steve says. He hums thoughtfully and leans back against the bench, eating his own cookie. Crystal and stone have always seemed cold and harsh to him, too rigid. But he can see how there would be security in that, in having the boundaries clearly delineated. 

"Maybe," Bucky says, and Steve perks up and looks at him. "Maybe we should get coffee sometime, and afterward I can show you some of them?"

His face is so soft and sweetly hopeful that Steve's heart pounds, and he grins in response. "I'd love that."

*

*

They have their coffee date a few days later, at Steve's favorite cafe. It's a cozy place, all mismatched squishy furniture in little groups around tables. At first, Steve feels a little lost; in the garden he was in his element with plenty to talk about. It's been a long time since he tried to start a friendship (or...something else) with someone who wasn't connected to the coven. He's always loved that safe sanctuary, but maybe it's stifled him in ways he hasn't realized.

But the spark he feels with Bucky is something special, something that can overcome both of their awkwardness. Over an oat milk latte and plate of pastries, Bucky tells Steve about his new job at the bookstore, spending his days shelving and giving uncomfortably intense older women recommendations about erotic fiction. And Steve tells stories about his freelance clients. Eventually, they drift out of the shop together and walk the three blocks to their apartment building, heading up to Bucky's apartment.

It's small and dim inside, all the curtains drawn closed, and after a glance at Steve's face Bucky winces and goes to pull some open. "Sorry, habit."

"It's fine," Steve says, but he does feel a little better with more natural light in the room, and he smiles gratefully.

"Go on, sit. Water?" Bucky asks, and Steve nods as he settles on the couch. Bucky's place is so _different_ , so clearly freshly moved into and a bachelor pad -- there are no plants or art on the walls, the furniture is mismatched and sparse in a thrift shop way. The glasses of water Bucky bring him match, but they're cheap plasticware. It makes Steve's heart hurt, a little; there's more to Bucky than this cold blank room. He's grateful for the distraction when Bucky fetches a large dark-stained wood box and sets it between them, sitting sideways with his left hand on the back of the couch. 

Steve's almost used to it, now, the black leather glove and the way Bucky tries to keep it out of the way. He's working on ignoring it, the way Bucky so clearly wants him to.

"So. Crystals," Steve says. He smiles, trying to be encouraging -- Bucky's suddenly tense, nervous like Steve hasn't seen him before. 

"Crystals. These are uh, some of my favorites," Bucky says. He takes a deep breath and opens the box to reveal perhaps a dozen crystals and stones of various types and sizes. His hand darts to pluck one up immediately, a smooth roundish pink crystal just a bit smaller than his palm. Bucky's fingers curl around it automatically, thumb rubbing over the face of it. "This is rose quartz. It's a good energy focus, helps with calming and soothing."

Steve isn't attuned to crystal work and without touching him, certainly can't see Bucky's aura, but he can see Bucky's shoulders relaxing and dropping, the tension in his face easing, until Bucky's hand opens and offers the quartz to him. Steve blinks, surprised, and looks up at him, fingers hovering over Bucky's hand. "Are you sure, Buck? I don't have to touch them."

But Bucky smiles, and nods, and turns Steve's hand over, placing the quartz gently on his palm. 

"Oh, it's _warm_!" Steve's hand closes around it and he shivers a little. It's a wonderfully _gentle_ warmth, soothing to Steve's fingers that always seem to be cold, and Steve suddenly wants to curl up around it and Bucky in his favorite glade at the park.

"Yeah." Bucky sounds fond as he reaches out to gently rub a finger over the edge of the crystal. "I use her a lot. After a while they get a bit of a feel to them." 

Steve almost thinks he can feel Bucky's touch, brushing up and down his spine, and his voice sounds rough when he says, "That makes sense, sure."

Bucky glances up at his face, cheeks almost as pink as the rose quartz, and they both clear their throats and look away.

Bucky plucks the rose quartz from his palm and Steve takes a drink of water. When he looks back, Bucky's holding a larger, rougher chunk of a crystal that shades from pale to deep jade green.

"This is green calcite," Bucky says, and drops it on Steve's palm. Steve sneezes, hit in the sinuses with astringent, and Bucky's eyes crinkle in amusement. "It's good for healing and getting rid of negative energy. I use it to cleanse myself before I work."

"That explains why I felt like I snorted Icy Hot," Steve says, and he grins when Bucky cracks up. "It's interesting. We certainly do purifying herbs and potions, but not before every work. Plants are better at filtering things, I think."

"Mm." Bucky's smile twists. "My energy tends to be dark. I like to feel fresh before I cast."

Steve curses mentally, and he knows he shouldn't, but he sends an ill-will thought to whoever hurt Bucky so badly. "Well, I'm an herbalist. I'll never argue with fresh ingredients."

Bucky shoots him a grateful look and takes the calcite back, laying it gently in its spot. "They've done well by me."

"What do you, um, do with them?" Steve's hand is tingling still and he can't help rubbing the thumb of his other hand over his palm, tracing the outline of where the calcite rested.

Bucky gives him a blank look. "Hold them, mostly?"

"Well. Yeah." Steve laughs and kicks at his foot gently. "I mean what kind of magic do you do?"

"Oh." Bucky flushes and looks down at his box, trailing his fingers over each crystal as if he's checking on each one. "Small stuff, mostly. Good fortune, gathering healing energies, some scrying."

"I heal, too. My mom was a nurse, it rubbed off," Steve says. He can't help but wonder if they could work together, if Bucky's crystals and his herbs would meld, how they could make it work.

"That doesn't surprise me. You seem like you'd be good at that." Bucky looks up at him through his lashes, smiling shyly, and Steve feels warm all over. "You're...comforting."

"Thanks. I mean, I'm not going to cure cancer or anything, but I do okay. I like making people feel better, y'know?" Steve says, but he's thinking about how he balanced Bucky's aura in the garden, how he instinctively sloughed off the dark. It might not have cured anything, but it was a step in the right direction. It reminds him of pruning dead leaves.

"Yeah," Bucky says, and Steve wonders if he's remembering it too. They sit quietly for a moment, before Bucky closes the box of crystals with a quiet _snick_ and shifts it to the floor. "Hey Stevie?"

Steve licks his lips. "Yeah?"

Bucky shifts closer on the couch, looking nervous again, yearning in a way that makes Steve lean towards him. "Can I kiss you?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that," Steve says. Bucky's face lights up and they move toward each other, kissing each other softly. 

Bucky feels different from any other magic user that Steve's ever kissed. Up close like this, there's something in his energy that's still dark, but not in a bad way. It's enveloping and intriguing, and Steve moans softly, parting his lips to chase the sensation.

Bucky groans in response, and he rests his hand on Steve's knee. "Steve, fuck."

"Yeah?" Steve traces his hands up over Bucky's arm, watching Bucky's face go soft and dreamy. He's never known anyone who was so affected by just a kiss, and Steve reaches up and tucks a strand of Bucky's hair behind his ear.

"I can...taste you." Bucky's gaze is intense, his eyes dark with desire. "Your power. Do you taste me?"

The thought of all the ways Steve might taste Bucky makes him shiver. For now he nods, and when Bucky tips his head towards Steve's hand, he takes the invitation to card his fingers through Bucky's long hair, pulling it loose from where he'd gathered it at the nape of his neck. "Yeah, Bucky. You're like...dark chocolate with chili powder."

Bucky laughs and arches into Steve's touch. "Dark chocolate, huh? You're like...citrus. Bright and fresh and full of light."

"We can be a chocolate orange, then." Steve snickers, but Bucky is still looking at him with those intent, dark eyes.

"I think that's a good omen," Bucky says. He slides his hand slowly from Steve's knee up onto his thigh. "Don't you?"

They've only just met, but Steve feels so good here with him. It's strange to realize all of this was underneath the prickly energy he felt before, like a blossom surrounded by thorns. Sometimes, he knows, you just _know_. "Definitely."

Bucky's hand is such a warm, heavy presence on his thigh, the promise of something more. Bucky squeezes gently and says, wonderingly, "Is it weird if I just want to get naked and feel your skin?"

Steve grins and leans in to kiss him again, long and lingering. "I want that too."

When Bucky pulls away from the kiss, he looks a little breathless. "Let's go to bed, then. Can I bring my quartz?"

Steve's startled enough by the question that he laughs. "Sure? I'm already into you, though. You don't need to do any sex magic on me."

Bucky is already reaching toward the box of crystals, and he pauses, looking back at Steve with flushed cheeks. "It's not sex magic for you, just...good energy, for later. I can leave it out here, if you want."

"No! Shit. Sorry." Steve pulls Bucky back toward him and gives him a firm kiss. "Bring it. I'm honored that you want my, ah, energy."

With that reassurance, Bucky retrieves his quartz and stands, offering Steve his hand. Steve lets him pull him to his feet and then back towards the bedroom. Bucky's room is small but definitely more lived in than the rest of his apartment. The curtains are drawn in here too, but it feels more intimate somehow. Steve steps past Bucky to look around the room. Most of it is taken up by a big bed piled with pillows; a simple big box store dresser is against one wall, mostly bare except for another dish of shiny rocks. Steve turns back to Bucky to ask him about them, but his words catch in his throat.

Bucky's stripped his shirt and glove off, and that _should_ be a good thing, but Steve can't appreciate the newly revealed skin because the only thing he can see is Bucky's arm.

He feels like he should have known, after all the negative energy he's felt from Bucky, the way that Bucky's always covered up. The vague references to the coven he left behind. Bucky's arm is a mess of darkness from the curve of his shoulder to his wrist, covered in dark purple and black lines that seem to be pulsing and throbbing under his flesh. When Steve finally tears his eyes away from it, Bucky is watching him with obvious concern.

"I...didn't know what to say," Bucky says. He flexes a little, and the darkness on his arm writhes.

Steve swallows hard, pushing down the anxiety and nausea that rises in his throat at the sight of the darkest magic he's ever seen in his life. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore." Bucky looks like he wants to bolt, but instead he stays painfully still. After a few moments, he extends his arm toward Steve. "It did. But it's just part of me now."

Steve nods and takes a step forward. He rests his palm against Bucky's arm, and he can _feel_ that dark energy that was his first introduction to Bucky, something roiling and barely contained just below his skin. He can feel that there's history there, more to the story, but Bucky's right. It is part of him. He uses his grip on Bucky's arm to steady himself as he goes up on his toes to kiss him softly.

Bucky makes a soft, needy sound against Steve's mouth. "Stevie, fuck."

Steve steps away so he can pull his own t-shirt up and over his head. "You okay?"

He's barely dropped his shirt before Bucky pulls him in close against his chest, skin on warm skin. "You're so...good. I'm glad I met you."

The full skin contact sends energy singing through Steve's skin, a combination of the warm buzzing he felt from the crystals and the electric crackle from his arm. He can't ignore the very real darkness of it, but it's tempered by knowing that Bucky is good, too. He _knows_ it.

He closes his eyes, letting the energy run over him, holding out as long as he can before sending it down to the ground just like in the garden. It's not as clean a transfer as it was with his feet on the earth, but he still feels the relief after. It feels a little like standing in a field after lightning strikes, electricity in the air and sulfur on the back of his tongue.

Steve takes a deep breath and smiles up at Bucky. "Bed?"

Bucky is looking down at him like Steve's some special kind of magic. "Fuck, yes."

Steve has to move away so he can sit on the side of the bed and attack the laces of his Docs. When he kicks his boots aside and looks back up, Bucky's stripped down to his briefs but he's just watching Steve with this dopey smile that makes Steve flush. He leans back and pats the bed next to him. "C'mere?"

Bucky clearly doesn't need to be asked twice. He pauses to set the quartz carefully on the nightstand, then climbs in next to Steve, stretching out on his back in the plush, oversized bed and pulling Steve down next to him. He seems to hold back with his bad arm, still cautious of touching Steve with it, but he shifts eagerly into the touch when Steve rests his hand on the center of Bucky's chest. Steve can't help but smile, stroking his hand over Bucky's pecs and down the midline of his belly. He's thick and solid, steadier than his crackling energy would imply.

"You have good hands," Bucky says, low and rumbly from deep in his chest. He shifts in bed, sprawling out like a happy pet basking in the sun, arms reaching up to stretch over his head.

Steve bites down on a smile, lazily rubbing his hand across Bucky's middle. "Are you a hand expert?"

Bucky squints up at him through half-lidded eyes. "I am when they're touching me."

The quiet intimacy of the two of them in this cocooned darkness on a lazy afternoon settles deep inside Steve. He moves to climb into Bucky's lap, skinny knees on either side of his hips. He can feel the solid heat of Bucky's cock through his briefs, a pleasant but not urgent reminder.

From this vantage point, the difference between Bucky's arms is easier to see. Steve runs his hands up over Bucky's pecs to his shoulders, going slowly so Bucky can stop him if he wants. Bucky tenses a little when Steve's fingertips first brush the bad shoulder, but he doesn't say anything - just closes his eyes. Steve can't turn off his healer's brain, gently feeling the muscles of Bucky's arms as he trails his hand down his biceps. Both arms feel equally strong on a physical level; whatever cursed Bucky's arm didn't impact the muscle. He reminds himself this is not a problem to be solved now, so instead Steve bends down for another kiss. Bucky moans immediately, and it sticks in Steve's chest how grateful he sounds.

"Touch me?" Steve murmurs against his lips, and Bucky's quick to oblige. His hands are big and steady, tracing up Steve's back and feeling the delicate bumps of his spine, the shape of his shoulder blades.

"You're so warm," Bucky says. His hands come to cup Steve's side, one thumb rubbing gently over his ribs. "Like there's a little sun in here."

Steve flushes. "Flatterer."

"I'm not." Bucky laughs and runs his hands over Steve's ribs, along the curve of them to palm his chest. Steve groans softly when his fingers press into his pectorals, tight and sore from long days drawing on his tablet, and Bucky smiles. "Yeah?" 

"Mm, feels good," Steve says. Their auras seem to have come to an agreement, or at least, Bucky's cursed arm doesn't feel different. He's just happy to see Bucky using it and staying relaxed. 

"Good. Want you to feel good," Bucky murmurs. Steve sighs and lets his eyes drift shut as Bucky's hands move back down, petting his chest and sides, until Bucky's grip tightens and they're rolling sideways.

"Asshole!" Steve yelps and slaps at his shoulder, but he's laughing and Bucky's grinning and leaning in for a quick kiss. 

It's a nice way to spend the afternoon, rolling around in bed, kissing and petting. His lips are tender by the time they stop; Bucky's stomach growls, so they order pizza to eat in their jeans on his crappy couch.

Steve goes home and jerks off in his bed, thinking about Bucky, his broad shoulders and thick thighs, the rose quartz on the nightstand. He thinks about Bucky using their energy -- their laughter and warmth and hope -- in his workings, and has to muffle his moan when he spills into his palm.

*

He doesn't bring up Bucky's arm again until a few dates down the line. They go to dinner at Steve's favorite Italian place in the neighborhood, and he catches Bucky's shy smile when the server greets him by name.

It's a little spot with only a handful of tables, and they end up sitting close enough that their knees bump together. Bucky looks especially handsome in a navy button-up shirt, one of the first non-black items Steve's ever seen him wear. But the black leather glove is present as always, and Steve can't help tracking it as he watches Bucky cut into his chicken piccata.

"And then," Bucky says, "I took that Diet Coke and I just poured it over her head."

"You _what_?" Steve's eyes snap back up to Bucky's face. He's got a smirk tugging at the side of his mouth, and Steve groans as he realizes he zoned out on at least half of the bookstore story Bucky was telling him. "Sorry, Buck."

"It's fine." Bucky smiles and takes a sip from his wine glass. "What's on your mind?"

Steve bites his lip, running through his options. It's been pretty clear that Bucky's happy to just ignore his hand and arm. He doesn't work as hard to keep it away from Steve anymore in everyday interactions, and he's let Steve touch him there when they're alone. But he hasn't volunteered any additional information about his former coven or what happened.

"I was just thinking…" Steve fiddles with his fork. The safer option is not to bring it up at all, but Steve knows too well that rotten roots can kill the whole plant. "I'm not a full-fledged healer or anything, but you wouldn't have to be a member of the coven to get some help from them."

Bucky is quiet for a long moment. He doesn't look upset that Steve brought it up, but he does seem tired. "I know you want to help, Stevie, but. Just leave it, okay?"

Steve's never been good at letting things go when he thinks there's something that he can do to help. There's a reason he took over coordinating shifts for the spring planting. But he can already tell that this could be something special, and Bucky is obviously serious about it. "Okay."

Bucky looks down at his plate, pushing some food around, and Steve worries maybe he's ruined the mood. But the moment passes, and by the time they're splitting a bowl of gelato, Steve's laughing and nudging his foot against Bucky's under the table. 

Outside the restaurant, Bucky quietly offers Steve his hand. It feels weirdly charming to be walking back to the same apartment building, hand in hand, and Steve squeezes Bucky's hand as soon as they reach the lobby. "Wanna come up to my place?"

Bucky grins down at him. "Yes, please."

Steve loves his apartment, but he knows it's a bit _much._ Bucky takes a long look at the shelves packed with plants and books, furniture covered in mis-matched pillows and crocheted afghans, leaves and vines waving all over, so different from his own spare apartment. 

He tugs Steve in against him. "Welcome to the jungle, huh?"

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky's waist. He can feel the energy of the apartment embracing Bucky, opening up to welcome him inside. "I think that's the first time Guns n' Roses has entered this apartment, but. Yeah, I guess so."

"Hope I'm not too rock n' roll for you," Bucky says, all low and teasing. He does look a little out of place, all darkness and intensity in the center of this warmth and greenery. But the contrast makes Steve's skin tingle a little, like when he held Bucky's crystals.

"I don't think you need to worry about that." Steve slides his hand down to hook his thumb into the waistband of Bucky's black jeans. "C'mon. Bed."

His bedroom isn't quite as plant-filled as the rest of the apartment, just a few special cases. There's a papasan chair tucked under a reading lamp, with its attendant stack of books and sketchpads, and his bed covered in a plush duvet to keep him warm at night. The furniture is handed down from his grandparents, solid wood, and the dresser top is covered in loose change and framed photographs and his mother's jewelry box.

"Your place is so cozy." Bucky turns back to Steve. His smile is soft and open. "I'd like to be settled like this someday."

Hearing that jabs Steve right in the heart, and he tugs Bucky back down for another kiss. "You're in the right place."

He reaches up to rest his hands on Bucky's chest, playing with one of his buttons. Bucky groans his approval, and Steve starts undressing him, stripping him down to the skin. This time, Bucky lets him pull off the glove and toss it aside. Here in the safety of his apartment, surrounded by his own energy, things feel a lot more mellow -- maybe Bucky's gotten better at not letting things build up to such a fever pitch, or he's shielding harder after their discussion.

But Steve doesn't want to think about being shut out and Bucky just asked him to leave things be, so Steve does his best to forget about the curse and focus on more important things, like Bucky's belt. Once his jeans are open, Steve hooks his thumbs in the soft waistband of his briefs and looks up at him. "This okay?"

"Fuck, yeah." Bucky's eyes are dark again, and he closes his hands over Steve's, guiding him as they shove his jeans and briefs down. 

Steve groans and immediately wraps his hand around Bucky's cock. It's nice and thick, and getting harder as Steve strokes him. "God, you're gorgeous." He licks his lips and smirks up at Bucky. "Do you like blowjobs?"

Bucky shudders in his grip, hips canting forward to seek out more contact. "Uhhh, yeah."

"C'mon, then." Steve leans in to press a kiss to Bucky's chest and steps back to strip out of his own clothes. Bucky steps out of his pants and climbs into Steve's bed, stretching out on his back. He looks gorgeous if a little discordant, lying on Steve's organic cotton sheets. Steve wastes no time tossing his own clothes aside and climbing into bed on top of Bucky. They're pressed together all the way down, warm skin and the gentle pulse of magic, and Steve could easily spend another few hours just kissing and cuddling. Bucky's so touch starved, his hands wandering Steve's skin in his hunger for skin contact, and Steve so badly wants to indulge him.

But he's also been making plans for when he gets Bucky alone again, and he has a mission now.

Bucky groans and shifts on the mattress as Steve starts to move down his torso, pausing for lingering kisses on each dark nipple. He giggles when Steve flicks his tongue into Bucky's navel, and his good hand closes around Steve's shoulder. "Tease."

"Mm, you're about to take that back," Steve says, looking up at him through his lashes with a smirk, and he closes his mouth around the head of Bucky's cock with a little moan of satisfaction. Watching Bucky's expression shift to awe is _incredible_.

It's never been hard to find someone to pass the time with, and Steve's always had a lot of fun. But dating within the coven is a recipe for complicated feelings, and it's been a long time since he _liked_ someone the way he likes Bucky. He's not sure he's ever liked someone this much, and that makes it all the better to hear Bucky say " _Fuck_ , Stevie" in that stunned voice.

Steve wraps his hand around the base, keeping control as he takes Bucky deeper into his mouth. He's thick, enough that Steve really feels like he's working for it. He hollows out his cheeks as he draws back, tongue curling around the weight of Bucky's cock. 

Bucky's a perfect gentleman, unsurprisingly, squeezing Steve's shoulder but never getting grabby or going for his hair. Steve wouldn't mind if Bucky got a little less perfect, to be honest, but there will be time for that. For now, this intimacy is exactly what he wants, sucking Bucky nice and slow, surrounded by the scent of him, his energy. 

Steve groans and takes his time exploring, finding the spots that make Bucky whimper and twitch. He's not sure how long he's down there, snug between Bucky's thighs, but he can feel the crackle of Bucky's magic building to a peak even before he hears him groan, "M'close, Steve, fuck."

Steve pulls back with a hum, pressing a wet kiss to the slick head of Bucky's cock before looking up at him. "Together?"

"Yeah." Bucky's flushed, and he tugs a little at Steve's shoulder. "Yeah, c'mere."

Steve's been so focused that he was only vaguely aware of his own arousal, but he gasps as he shifts and realizes he can feel how heavy his cock is, how sensitive it is to the air of the room. He crawls back up to settle over Bucky's thighs and Bucky immediately wraps his big hand around both of them. They're both sweating a little, Bucky's cock slick with Steve's spit, and Steve gasps, rutting into Bucky's grip.

Bucky pushes his other hand into Steve's hair, finally, drawing him in for a kiss. Steve groans against his mouth, and he knows he's getting sloppy, but he can't help himself. His jaw is going to ache later, the good hard-work kind of ache that comes after weeding in the garden, and it gets him so hot to think about it.

He's closer than he thought; he won't have to make Bucky wait too long. He rests his hands on Bucky's shoulders to steady himself, holding on tight when his thighs start to tremble.

"That's right, Stevie," Bucky says, his voice a velvety purr, and Steve imagines he can feel it rolling down his spine. His cock pulses into Bucky's hand and Steve whines, hips jerking.

"Bucky, baby, _god_ you're good to me," Steve whimpers. His arms buckle, dropping him onto Bucky's chest, and Steve lays desperate sucking kisses over his neck, moaning at the taste of Bucky's sweat on his tongue.

Bucky grunts above him. He's stroking faster now, less steady, and Steve closes his eyes, letting Bucky pull them both over the edge. They come together, clutching each other, both of them a panting mess.

Later, after remembering how to breathe and cleaning up, Steve rests his cheek against Bucky's chest and listens to his heartbeat. "You know, you could...bring a quartz up here. If you wanted."

Bucky huffs out a laugh. "You think I should?"

"I'm just saying." Steve closes his eyes and smiles. "I wouldn't want you to miss out on any of that good energy."

*

They never have a discussion about Bucky helping to tend to Steve's apartment jungle, but once he has a key, it just makes sense. Steve's spending a lot more time at the coven garden with the harvest and preparing for winter, so he's certainly not going to turn down an extra pair of hands at home. There's also something incredibly endearing about how intently Bucky notes down who gets watered when, and how much. He even shows up one day with a watering can with little line markers, and Steve's heart just about flutters out of his chest.

Steve comes home on a sunny afternoon to find the apartment empty, but the window next to the fire escape open. He drops his bag by the door and goes to crawl out himself, climbing up the steel steps to the roof. As tired he is after a long morning of work, it's hard to resist spending a warm afternoon in his unofficial rooftop garden. It started mostly as a place to keep overflow plants, some potted vegetables he was looking after for a friend, but once some of his friends in the coven heard about it, there were offers to build herb and vegetable boxes, even set up a greenhouse. These days it's a little bit more official than not.

He'd found a free patio set on Facebook and dragged it precariously up the fire escape himself, spending a few days stripping off the chipped paint before going at it with some butter yellow spray paint. As he suspected, Bucky is lounging in one of the patio chairs, watering can on the table next to him and head bowed as he reads. What Steve didn't expect is the pigeon perched on Bucky's knee.

Steve clears his throat softly, and the pigeon's head turns to stare at him with dark, beady eyes, but it doesn't move. It just coos softly, and Bucky looks up from his book. "...I call him Eddie."

"Eddie, huh?" Steve crouches where he is so he doesn't startle the bird, but...Eddie seems pretty comfortable right where he is. He can't help but grin at the picture of it, Bucky surrounded by greenery and adorned with this soft, grey bird. "I didn't know you wanted a pet."

"He's not a pet," Bucky says, wrinkling his nose, but he reaches out and gently pets his curled finger against the bird's neck. Eddie arches into it, showing off the band of teal and purple around his throat. "Just...see him up here sometimes."

Steve bites the inside of his cheek. After a moment of consideration, trying to figure out the right thing to say, he cocks his head. "We could build him some shelter up here, if you want. Even not-pets could use a home base."

Bucky looks back at him, like he's checking to see if Steve is teasing him. After a moment, he smiles, eyes soft. "Yeah? I think he'd like that. And I've...there are other birds that circle, when I bring up some birdseed. He's not the only one who could use a place to land."

Eddie the pigeon takes a few steps to the left, then the right, a little dance along Bucky's leg before he takes off into the sky. They both watch him as he flies.

It's not hard to find volunteers in the coven for the pigeon loft project. Steve brews a massive jug of sun tea in the window and orders pizza while Bucky helps cart lumber and power tools up to the roof. By the end of a weekend's work, they have a simple but sturdy structure with plenty of room for Eddie and several friends alongside the herb garden. 

After the crafting is done, Bucky carefully sets yellow jasper and hematite at the four corners of the loft. "Protection," he says, when he sees Steve watching. "For travelers."

Steve comes up behind Bucky and wraps his arms around his waist, resting his cheek against Bucky's broad back. "I have some rosemary up here. I could get some dill, from the coven garden, if that would help."

Bucky rests his hand on top of Steve's clasped hands, and Steve can feel him relax, just a little. "Can't hurt."

Steve's enough of a city boy that he's always been a little suspicious of pigeons, but it feels like the right thing to do, encouraging this nurturing instinct. Bucky dives in whole-heartedly, coming home with books from the shop all about pigeon husbandry and giving Steve professorial lectures over dinner about this maligned species.

"We think of them as dirty," Bucky says, waving his fork around with another vigor that Steve's worried his curried cauliflower is going to go flying, "but they just get sick, like anything else." The next day, Steve finds him setting up a healing grid on the bottom of the loft. Eddie is still a regular visitor, but there are a few more birds that start to look as familiar, coming to find fresh bird seed and a safe place to perch.

*

They spend most of their Sundays on the roof. Bucky cleans out the coop while Steve weeds the herb beds, but once he's done, he stays standing there in front of the loft, gently petting Eddie's chest as he puffs up his feathers happily at the attention.

If Steve was any farther away, he wouldn't even have heard Bucky mumble, "I used to kill these, you know."

Steve immediately feels like something cold has wrapped around his spine. His head snaps towards Bucky, who's still looking at Eddie, still stroking his feathers. "You what?"

He knows that he looks horrified, can't quite get control of his features, but Bucky doesn't look over. Bucky probably knows what he would see if he did.

"You get a lot of power from a life," Bucky says, voice sounding strained and rough. Eddie coos softly and nuzzles against his hand. "Even a small one."

"...yeah." Steve sets his trowel down on the edge of the bed and stands up, brushing his dirty hands off on his jeans. His stomach is tied up in knots, but he walks over to stand next to Bucky, just at his shoulder. By now, Eddie knows him well enough that he doesn't fly away.

Bucky is still staring intently into the pigeon loft, but from here, Steve can see that his eyes are unfocused, not really looking at anything. His bad arm twitches, fingers clenching into a fist. "But eventually even that wasn't enough."

"That's what I've heard." Steve grew up in a coven; he's heard plenty of horror stories about dark magic, blood magic. It always escalates, no matter how careful you think you are. No matter how many boundaries you think you have in place. He's known all along that Bucky came from somewhere bad, something that made him shy and skittish. Something that made him completely change his practice. He reaches out and rests his hand gently on Bucky's good shoulder. "This was with your old coven?"

Bucky startles when Steve touches him, and he finally looks over at him, eyes wide and sad. "I stayed longer than I should have. But eventually, it was...too much. I had to get out."

Steve's heart aches and he steps closer, pressing against Bucky's side. He still feels a little sick inside, but he needs to be close, can't let himself be afraid of his sweet gentle boyfriend who rescues pigeons. He takes a deep breath, bends to softly kiss Bucky's shoulder.

"It's never going to go away," Bucky says, voice wavering. "But I still wanted to try to be better."

"That's what matters, baby." Steve wraps his arms around Bucky's waist, squeezing him tight. Eddie makes a grumpy sound, unimpressed by the loss of Bucky's attention, and flutters away. Steve goes up on his toes to kiss the line of Bucky's jaw. "You got out, and you want to do good things."

He's not sure if it's the kiss or the words that push Bucky over the edge, but Steve feels him shudder. Bucky turns into him, pressing their foreheads together. His eyes are squeezed shut, but Steve can see the tears starting to escape at the corners. "You make me want to be good, baby."

"Sweetheart." Steve can feel his heart throb in his chest, and he reaches up to cup his hand around Bucky's cheek. "Thank you. I'm glad to help, but this is you, okay? You _are_ good."

Bucky sighs heavily, and he pulls back just enough to look back at Steve, eyes sparkling. "Yeah? Fuck. I'm starting to believe that maybe I can be."

"You can." Steve smiles up at him and pats his cheek gently. "Rehabilitation through gardening and pigeon rescue. I've heard of weirder methods."

Bucky gives him a crooked smile in return. "I can help a little bit, at least? I...think about them. When I'm up here."

Everything makes so much more sense now, the way Bucky tends to Eddie or nurses another bird's broken wing. All the time he spends up here, quietly doing penance. It's hard to imagine Bucky using the same hands that carefully pluck shriveled leaves and refill the dish of bird seed every morning for harm. Steve nods. "You can work to restore the balance."

"Balance, exactly." Bucky is silent for a moment, but Steve can see his jaw twitch with unspoken words. He looks away from Steve's eyes, gaze pointed somewhere toward his chest. "D'you still…"

He trails off, and Steve waits for him to continue. When he doesn't, Steve squeezes him gently. "What, baby?"

Bucky's voice goes rough again. "Do you still love me?"

It feels like a stake stabbing underneath his ribs. "Bucky, of course I do."

Bucky crumples and turns toward him, pulling Steve into a crushing embrace. With both of Bucky's arms wrapped around him, Steve can feel that one is fevered hot against his back. "I love you so much, Stevie."

Steve closes his eyes and leans into Bucky's chest. Animal sacrifice was definitely not something he ever expected to deal with in a relationship, but he _knows_ Bucky now. He's seen how hard Bucky works, how much of his heart he'll give. He left his old coven behind for a reason.

After a long moment standing in each other's arms, Steve tugs Bucky over to the patio set. He goes easily, obediently sitting in a chair and letting Steve climb into his lap, curling up against his chest. It centers him, feeling Bucky's heart beating in his chest, fast at first, and then slowing to a more relaxed pace as they sit and breathe together.

Steve doesn't know how long they've been sitting there holding each other before Eddie lands on the edge of the table in a flutter, cocking his head and watching them. Steve grins and nudges Bucky, nodding toward the bird. "See? Eddie thinks you're good."

Bucky flushes, pressing his face into Steve's neck, but after a moment he leans over to offer his hand to Eddie, who primly hops into his palm. "I guess so."

"Animals know," Steve says sagely. Eddie sits with them a moment until he seems to realize there won't be any food over here, and he takes off again, back to the loft. They both laugh, and Steve leans in to kiss Bucky again softly. "Feeling better?"

"Much." Bucky's clearly more relaxed, the tension gone from his body, and he reaches his hand up to ruffle Steve's hair gently, looking up at him with a soft, hazy smile. "All thanks to you."

Steve feels his own cheeks turning pink, and he shifts so he can give Bucky a proper kiss, slow and deep. "You make me better too, you know? We're good for each other."

"Is that so?" Bucky tips his head to the side. "I hope so."

Steve takes a deep breath. There's a lot that's been on the tip of his tongue, not quite ready to say, but after this, he wants to say it. He wants Bucky to know that he's not alone. "My mom died when I was eighteen, you know? I was technically an adult, but the coven took care of me, and it was…great. But I forgot that there was a life outside of that for a while."

Bucky is quiet for a moment before he rests his hand on Steve's hip and squeezes. "They did a good job. But you're...repotted now. You have more room for your roots to grow."

"...yeah. Fuck." Steve huffs out a breath. Trust Bucky to be all wrapped up in his own thorny vines but still see straight through Steve. It's been a while since he brought it up with the way Bucky reacted last time, but it feels _right_ now, with things so tender and open between them. He sits up a little so he can make eye contact with Bucky. "We could talk to the coven about doing something for your arm. Together."

Bucky just looks up at him, like he's searching for something in Steve's eyes, for a long time. Maybe he finds it, because eventually he exhales like he's letting go of something that's been curled up inside for so long. "...yeah. We should try."

*

*

_Epilogue - Beltane, the morning after_

Steve wakes up in the garden to the soft sound of rustling leaves and a few chirps from passing songbirds.

He stretches and his knuckles brush against soft grass. His back is a little sore from spending the night on the ground, but it's a pleasant reminder of the events of the festival. He can feel Bucky's steady breath against his neck, still asleep.

Steve opens his eyes to look up at the dense canopy of green leaves above them. After the feasting and dancing, he'd taken Bucky by the hand and pulled him away from the flickering light of the bonfires, back to his special place under the trees. They'd spread out their blankets and curled up here, next to the old bench they sat on together, that first time Bucky came to the coven garden.

At the time, Steve hadn't really understood what that meant to Bucky. It was a gesture of trust that makes his heart ache, looking back. He couldn't stop thinking about it, about all that Bucky has given of himself as they made love under the leaves and stars. He shivers pleasantly now, remembering how they moved together on the warm grass, Steve moving slow and languid on Bucky's cock, sending their blessing for the summer season to the earth.

Bucky sleeps on his side, his arm slung across Steve's middle. His _left_ arm, bared to the open air for the first time in ages. Steve reaches up, careful not to disturb him, and rests his hand on Bucky's forearm. There are still veins of darkness running through his skin, the occasional spike of energy that crackles through them both when Bucky loses control. But with hard work, the curse is starting to fade. Bucky wears a string of milky selenite beads around his wrist, but Steve thinks the gentle pecks and nibbles from Eddie help too.

Somewhere nearby Steve can hear voices, people starting to wake up and gather their things. Someone is probably making coffee over the smoldering embers of the bonfire.

Bucky grumbles and starts to stir beside him. Steve turns back into him as he wakes, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Morning."

"Mmm." Bucky blinks himself awake and gives Steve a soft, sleepy smile. From this perspective, down on the ground, the low brush and flowers are like a halo behind his head. "It's officially a new season, huh?"

"Yeah," Steve says, leaning in for a proper kiss. "A new start."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! We can be found other places, too:
> 
> anoneknewmoose - [twitter](https://twitter.com/anoneknewmoose)  
> mwestbelle - [twitter](https://twitter.com/ampersandjay/)  
> livelylute - [twitter](https://twitter.com/livelylute) and [art tumblr](https://livelylute-arts.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Stay tuned for the story of what happened on Beltane night! ;)


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